


No Place I'd Rather Be

by eperil



Series: Salvation [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, M/M, Male Homosexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-05 19:51:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1830181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eperil/pseuds/eperil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Human progress is neither automatic nor inevitable.' -Martin Luther King Jr.</p><p>Everyone has their problems. Everyone has their weaknesses. Some worse than others, but telling someone not to be sad because there's someone worse off than them is essentially like telling someone not to be happy because there are people that are better off than them, right? </p><p>But it's okay, because holidays fix everything, don't they?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Show Me That You're Human

**Author's Note:**

> A couple people told me they'd like to see more from a one shot I wrote a while back, part 1 of 'Salvation'. So I wrote another one shot, but it was a little too long, and so I am breaking it down and carrying it on as a fanfiction. Enjoy!
> 
> 'Show me that you're human, you won't break,  
> Oh, love your flaws  
> And live for your mistakes.  
> And beauty's on the surface,  
> Wearing thin.  
> Come closer,  
> Show the marks upon your skin,  
> Show me that you're human.'

Steve didn't find out what had actually happened to Bucky's missing arm, how he'd come into the business of losing an arm, until one dark, quiet night. He lay awake that night, unable to sleep because of Bucky's twitching next to him. He wasn't blaming Bucky, but he was sure that sleeping would be an easier task were Bucky not tossing and turning.

Often enough, Steve would place a warm, comforting hand on Bucky's back, and it would calm him for a moment, only for Bucky to return to his writhing state. It wasn't the first time he'd done this since they'd started dating. Steve sighed and stared up at Bucky's ceiling, his breathing steady. He listened out for Bucky's breaths, and they came, every so often catching a small gasp. Suddenly, Bucky began writhing violently, and Steve shot up.

"Bucky," he whispered, shaking his arm. "Bucky wake up!" Steve shook him further, one hand on his bicep, the other stroking his forehead. Bucky's eyes shot open, and he sat bolt upright, breathing ragged and heavy, staring at Steve. His mouth was open, both from shock and to draw more oxygen into what felt like his constricted airways. "It's me, Buck. It's me, Steve." Steve said, running a soothing hand up and down Bucky's spine.

"Steve.." Bucky nodded. "It's you.." Steve nodded and scratched gently at the short hairs on the back of Bucky's neck, a gesture he knew he liked. Bucky's shoulders slacked, and his breathing slowed. Steve guided him down to lay his head on his chest, and let him lay quietly until his breathing had evened out. Once it had, the questions started.

"What was that all about?" Steve whispered, still running his fingertips up and down Bucky's side.

"It was a bad dream." Steve expelled a breath through his nose.

"And what was the dream about?" Bucky shook his head and buried his head further into the nape of Steve's neck. Steve sighed, but didn't press. If he was anyone else, he would have done, he probably would have gotten up and walked away, weary of Bucky's tendency to avoid questions like these. But he wasn't anyone else, he was just Steve, and so he stayed put, not saying a single word. However, Bucky could sense his annoyance and pulled his head away to look at Steve, who wasn't looking at him.

"At least you're not doing the puppy eyes thing." Bucky groaned and rested his head back on Steve's chest. "It was about my dad." Steve looked down at Bucky, showing he was listening. He had definitely noticed the lack of a father figure in Bucky's life.

"What about him?" Steve asked, slowly and gently, still rubbing at Bucky's side.

"He was an ass." Bucky replied.

"That much of an ass that you're having nightmares about him?"

Bucky laughed, the kind of laugh where there's no noise but you just blow air through your nose. "Yeah. He was a nasty drunk, for most of what I can remember of my life, so my mom divorced him. A few months after the divorce, he picked me up in his car from outside of my elementary school, and me, being none the wiser, got in. We drove far, really far, out of New York far, and it was getting dark and he was drinking. And we stopped somewhere, because there was a fallen tree in the middle of the road.

"So he undid my seatbelt and his own, and as we were about to step out of the car, his dumb, drunk ass stepped on the accelerator. We hit the tree, and both got thrown through the windshield. I wake up, god knows how many hours or days later, in a hospital with my mom by my side, telling me my dad was dead and I was missing an arm." Bucky let out a breath when he'd finished his story, and Steve found himself absentmindedly stroking the place where Bucky's arm used to be.

"It feels good to get it off my chest. I get these attacks a lot. And honestly, since you've been staying with me, they've gotten less frequent, and less vivid." Bucky said, repositioning himself on Steve's body. Steve kissed the top of his head and smoothed his hair down.

"I think you have PTSD." He said, scratching at the back of Bucky's neck again.

"What's that?" Bucky yawned.

"Post-traumatic Stress Disorder. We'll talk about it in the morning. Go to sleep now." Bucky nodded slowly, yawning once more, leaving Steve to his thoughts.

 

"So what was that thing you were talking about last night? P..S..D..." Bucky asked, and Steve chuckled a little, and swallowed his toast.

"PTSD, you dope. It's Post-traumatic Stress Disorder, something that occurs after an experience of something quite violent, usually physical harm or witnessing physical harm. But there's loads of types, the physical harm thing is just the most common." He sat on a counter in Bucky's kitchen, swinging his legs rather innocently. Bucky moved between them and placed his hand on Steve's hip.

"Well, aren't you smart?" He teased, and Steve swung a soft kick with the side of his foot into the side of Bucky's leg.

"Hey, I'm trying to help you, you ass." He replied, putting his hands on Bucky's shoulders.

"I know you are, sweet cheeks." Bucky planted a kiss on Steve's lips, and smirked. "I'm glad my mom's taking frequent trips outta New York. We can get up to so much more..." Bucky was grinning now, his arm snaking around Steve's waist, getting tighter. Steve squeezed Bucky's shoulders harder, and let himself be picked up from the counter and be carried to Bucky's bedroom on Bucky's side, effortlessly.

"Maybe she's dating?" Steve pondered, taking his t-shirt off as Bucky kicked his bedroom door open. Bucky paused in the doorway for a moment, before carrying on towards the bed.

"Nah," he said, "she wouldn't be." Steve fell back onto the bed and propped himself up on his elbows.

"She could be. Her trips are getting a lot more frequent. And notice how she was gone on Valentine's Day? If that doesn't scream 'I'm dating someone' then nothing does." Bucky pushed the thought to the back of his head, almost shuddering at the thought of his mother... He couldn't bring himself to think about it any longer.

"You know what does scream 'I'm dating someone'?" He asked, a growl in his voice. Steve held back a large smile, and asked.

"What, Bucky dearest?" Bucky kneeled onto the bed and straddled Steve's waist, lowering his head down enough for his lips to pressed against Steve's ear.

"This." He whispered, and moved his head to Steve's lips, kissing them, and then kissing down his neck, his shoulders, his chest and stomach, and finally, hovering above the top of Steve's jeans. Bucky undid the button in one flick, and pressed his palm against Steve's ever-hardening denim covered cock, earning a groan and a lip bite that turned him on more than anyone would ever know.

He pulled the fabric down, and Steve's boner sprang out. Bucky held it's base, and squeezed slightly, looking for Steve's reaction. Steve's eyes were squeezed shut, his fingers had clutches of the sheets between them, and his mouth was parted slightly. Bucky smiled and moved back, leaning forward to flick his tongue over the tip. Steve's hips bucked off of the bed, and Bucky held them down teasingly, running his fingertips over the soft skin that covered Steve's hipbones.

"Bucky," Steve moaned, and Bucky smirked.

"Yes, Stevie?" He asked innocently, looking up.

"Shut up." Steve replied, provoking a cackle of laughter from Bucky.

"Gladly." He whispered, and wrapped his lips around Steve's cock. Steve's hands let go of the sheets and found Bucky's hair, weaving themselves through it, and guiding Bucky's movements, who was more than happy to comply, because nothing excited him more than when usually-shy Steve became dominant. His head bobbed up and down in a slow rhythm, and soon, Steve was telling Bucky to stop because 'he was close', but Bucky stubbornly stayed put, carrying on his movements, until he felt Steve's whole body go taut, and then felt his hips rise from the bed, to spill warm liquid into the back of Bucky's mouth.

Bucky licked his lips, and crawled back up the bed to come face to face with Steve again, who looked up at him in a daze, his hooded blue eyes glinting with lust. Bucky grinned at Steve and ducked his head down, kissing him. The texture of his mouth was a lot more sticky than usual, giving Steve more of a kick than he would have thought it would do. They were interrupted by a banging on the front door, and Bucky let his head loll back, rolling his eyes in annoyance. Steve chuckled and pushed at his chest, rolling out from under him. He pulled on a t-shirt and followed Bucky out and down the stairs. The banging got a little more urgent.

"Alright, alright. I'm coming." Bucky said monotonously, opening the door.

Natasha slipped in past him, shut the door quickly behind her, and walked past him into the living room. Bucky stood, facing the now closed door. "Well hi Nat, would you like to come in?" Steve laughed from the stairs behind him.

"Shut up, you idiot." He chuckled, walking into the living room, and Bucky laughed, following him in. Natasha was looking out of the window, her arms crossed.

"Hi, Nat." Steve called, sitting down on the arm of the couch.

"Hey, Steve." She replied, still looking outside.

"Natasha, you disturbed our-" Bucky started, but Steve cut in.

"Shut up, Bucky." Natasha laughed humourlessly.

"It's okay Steve, Bucky thinks it's a great idea to tell me about his sex life all of the time. It's not news." She said, squinting her eyes as she looked. "And, even if he didn't tell me," she turned around and nodded her head to Bucky's jeans, "I might have just guessed."

Bucky and Steve lowered their heads, for their eyes to meet with a whitish stain on Bucky's black skinny jeans. Steve went bright red, and he rubbed both hands over his face in embarrassment.

"Any particular reason you're acting extremely shady?" Bucky asked Natasha, throwing himself down on the couch.

"How am I acting shady?" She asked, looking back at him.

"Hm, let's see." Bucky tapped his chin. "Well, the urgent banging on my door, the eagerness to close it behind you, and now the standing at my window and looking intently at the street like someone's got a sniper pointed at one of us from somewhere. That doesn't sound a little shady to you?" Natasha laughed a little.

"I was being followed." She said, and Bucky sat up.

"By who? You want me to go out there and have a look? What did they look like?" Natasha turned away from the window and moved, sitting opposite from Steve and Bucky on another couch. She gave him a look, that seemed to just say 'I can handle it perfectly fine, thank you very much,' and it almost withered him, making his shoulders slump.

"It was just two stupid boys. One of them was called Clint, and the other was Tony Stark." Bucky's eyebrows raised, and Steve sat forward.

"Clint from school? How the hell does Clint know Tony Stark?" Bucky asked, a confused expression on his face. Natasha shrugged.

"I don't know. I think they're in DT class together, God knows why Barton even does it. He's got the creativity of a spoon." Steve chuckled and nodded.

"I hate to say it, but I don't know why he does it either." Natasha sat back and crossed her legs.

"I may have also kicked Stark in the nuts.." She trailed off, and Bucky's face dropped.

"Am I going to have a bomb dropped on my house? Is the shell going to bear the Stark Industries logo? Should I maybe start evacuating the street now?" Natasha rolled her eyes.

"You are very much one to exaggerate aren't you, Barnes? It wasn't that hard."

"Nat, you kick so hard, men become unable to have children. This is serious."

"Yeah, but I'm telling you it wasn't hard. It was like a warning kick."

"And did he get the hint?" Steve asked, and Natasha shrugged.

"Any person in the their right mind would get the hint." Bucky grumbled, and Steve figured that Bucky had been a victim of at least one of Natasha's lethal kicks at one point in his life.


	2. Black Beauty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Oh, what can I do?  
> Life is beautiful,  
> But you don't have a clue.  
> Sun, and ocean blue,  
> Their magnificence,   
> It don't make sense to you.'

Steve sat at his seat in chemistry, looking around the room, waiting for the lesson to start. He looked back to his previous seat, and couldn't help but let the smallest of smiles creep onto his face. The day he'd been moved there was the day he'd first spoken to Bucky, and he wasn't sure he'd have even looked at him sideways if it wasn't for that seat.

"What are you smiling at, Stevie?" Steve jumped a little, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Idiot. Nothing. Am I not allowed to smile?" He asked, jabbing Bucky in the ribs.

"Not unless it's at me." Bucky teased, going to jab Steve back, before Steve grabbed his wrist.

"Ah ah," he tutted, shaking his head. "Asthmatic, remember? Remember when you elbowed me in the ribs back there?" Steve stuck a thumb behind him, and Bucky's face dropped.

"Alright, faulty lungs." He sighed, sitting in the chair next to Steve.

 

"Hey," Bucky said, halfway through class, and Steve looked up from what he was writing.

"Hi," he replied, and Bucky smiled.

"Natasha was telling me about some place that she and Sam were planning to go to for spring break." He said, tapping his pencil against the table.

"Uhuh," Steve urged him to carry on.

"Well, I think we should go with them." Steve nodded, and looked at Bucky. "Where is it?" He asked, and as Bucky was about to speak, he was interrupted.

"Hey! Lovebirds!" Someone called from behind them. Steve and Bucky turned to face the table behind them, and were met with a camera flash. Gabe pulled his phone down under the table and looked at the picture, throwing his head back mid-cackle.

"Show me!" Dum Dum said, and Gabe tilted the phone towards him, provoking a snort from him.

"You'd better fuckin' delete that, or I'll punch your damn face in." Bucky growled, and Gabe laughed.

"Chill, man! Steve doesn't mind, do ya Stevie?"

"I'm with Bucky. Delete it." Bucky raised and dropped his eyebrows at Gabe, who sighed in defeat.

"A'ight, I'm deleting it." Dum Dum rolled his eyes at Gabe's easy defeat and leaned forward.

"You guys heard about that beach resort everyone's going to for spring break?" He asked.

"That's what Natasha was talking about, said she and Sam might go there." Bucky said, and Dum Dum nodded.

"Yeah, it's gonna be awesome apparently; loads of booze, beautiful weather, tons of hot babes walking around in just their bikinis..." He trailed off when he caught Bucky and Steve's blank faces.

"The booze bit sounds good." Bucky shrugged.

 

"Come on, Steve, it'll be awesome!" Bucky urged, his hand tapping the steering wheel to the music that was seeping from the car radio.

"I don't know, Bucky. I'm not sure if I like the idea of it." Steve replied, looking at his hands. Bucky's head fell back and he grunted.

"Stevie.." He groaned, and lolled his head to the side to look at Steve. They were parked outside of Steve's apartment, the bustle of Brooklyn going by the open windows of the car, filling it with street noise.

"I'll think about it, Buck. But I'm not gonna guarantee it's gonna be a yes, and then let you down when I'm not coming. Alright?" Bucky sighed and nodded.

"Alright."

"Good." Steve leaned over the handbrake and kissed Bucky's lips softly, the kiss lingering for a while, before he pulled away equally as softly.

"But you have to let me know by tomorrow, 7pm latest. Because we're leaving on Sunday." Bucky warned.

"So you're gonna go whether I'm coming or not?" Steve raised an eyebrow, and Bucky's face dropped.

"Well, I-I don't want to go without you, I-" He began to babble and Steve laughed.

"I'm kidding, Buck. I promise you'll have an answer from me by tomorrow." He pecked Bucky's lips quickly and hopped out of the car, making his way into his apartment. Bucky sighed once more and started the engine.

 

Bucky was a little surprised when Steve came to his door later on that day, with a packed bag and a cut above his eyebrow. "I made up my mind, I'm coming." Bucky stood with the door open, a little speechlessly, and took Steve's hand, pulling him inside the door.

"What happened?" He asked, his hand reaching up to examine the wound, which left a trail of dried blood down the side of his face, and Steve flinched away a little, not wanting Bucky to touch it.

"Is that Steve?" Bucky's mom called, and Bucky rolled his eyes. "Hi, sweetheart- oh God, Steve! What happened?" His mother held a hand to her mouth.

"I tripped on the way over here, Miss Barnes. I'm sorry, I just need a band aid is all." She nodded her head ok, but her eyes told Steve that she didn't believe his story, and he silently cursed himself for not being able to lie. The look on Bucky's face, however, straight up told him he didn't believe him, but he didn't say anything. Not yet, anyway.

"Bucky, get the first aid box." Bucky nodded, and beckoned Steve into the kitchen, rummaging through the box for some antiseptic cream and a band aid. Steve sat down on a chair and sighed, dropping his backpack next to him.

"So what actually happened, then?" Bucky asked, wetting a paper towel to clean the cut with. He looked over his shoulder to make sure that his mother wasn't at the kitchen doorway, and turned to Steve, bending down and wiping at the cut. Steve hissed in pain at the sensation and Bucky scoffed. "The antiseptic's a lot worse. Now tell me the real story, not that bullshit you just gave my mom." Steve rolled his eyes and sighed.

"My mom got a little angry and needed to let off a little steam."

"Your mom did this?" Bucky stopped wiping the cut and looked at Steve.

"Yeah. Punched me, with her ring hand too." Bucky winced and went back to dabbing at the wound.

"Well, she must pack quite a punch. And that's a hell of a ring she's got. Hold still." Bucky dabbed the cream onto the gash, and Steve's eye began watering from the sting.

"Shit, that stuff stings." He groaned.

"Where was your dad?" Bucky asked, and Steve shrugged.

"I don't know, he left a bit beforehand. She got angry that she couldn't argue with him anymore, and came bursting into my room, giving me all this shit. So I got up to get her out, and next thing I know I got her fist comin' my way. Decided I wasn't hangin' around there for a week and packed a bag so we could go to this thing you wanted to go to." Bucky smiled a little, and stood up, securing a band aid across Steve's forehead.

"At least it hurried you to make your mind up, I guess. But you can't let her do this to you anymore, Stevie." Steve laughed, a hint of nervousness.

"This is the first time she's-" Bucky held his hand up, and shook his head. He packed up the first aid box, and opened the cupboard under the sink to place it in to.

"Stop with that Steve. I've seen the bruises. They're too frequent, too purple, in places it's very unlikely to bash off of things like a door frame, or a table. And I know you're not the epitome of grace, Rogers, but all of those bruises that you constantly seem to have on your back? You don't fall on your back when I'm with you, and I'm with you practically everyday. She's pushing you around when she gets angry and you're letting her."

Steve dropped his head, feeling stupid for even trying to lie to Bucky and make it seem like everything was ok when it really wasn't.

"I just... I'm not gonna hit her back, Bucky." Bucky detected defeat and exasperation in Steve's voice, and it broke his heart.

"Of course not," Bucky took Steve's hand in his own, and tugged it so Steve would look up at him. "I wouldn't expect you to, no one would, and I'm so proud that you haven't considering the stress she puts you under. But, you need to understand that just because she's your mother and she's a woman, that doesn't mean she can throw you around like you're a rag doll. And the sooner you realise this, the sooner you'll be able to catch her before she can hurt you again."

Steve nodded, and Bucky pulled his arm more, so that he stood up. "Let's go up to my room. I wanna order pizza, because I'm really hungry and I haven't eaten all day."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this even good idk XD


	3. No Place I'd Rather Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'If you gave me a chance  
> I would take it  
> It's a shot in the dark  
> But I'll make it  
> Know with all of your heart  
> You can't shame me  
> When I am with you  
> There's no place I'd rather be'

"Natasha! Let's go!" Bucky called, taking his sunglasses off to look up at Natasha's bedroom window. It was Sunday morning, and the sun was already heating the four of them up. The window opened, and Natasha threw a large bag out, which Sam caught.

"I'm coming," she shouted down, poking her head out of the window. "start the car!" She ducked her head back in and reached up to slide the window down and close it. Once everyone had thrown their bags into the trunk of Bucky's car, he turned to the back seat, where Natasha and Sam sat.

"So, uh, where exactly is this beach?" He asked, and Sam sat forward, holding out a pamphlet, which Bucky took.

"They refurbished Fire Island on Long Island two years ago, and there's a really big section that they change around to fit the holiday. Last year, they opened up a spring break thing, renting out all these massive, like, tiki hut things, and all the shops and bars around shaped up to fit and cater for students who were looking for an awesome place to go to for spring break. And it was a complete hit, so that's why loads of people from school are looking to go there this year, like us."

"And we're staying in one of these tiki huts?" Bucky asked.

"Yeah," Natasha joined in, "I've arranged for us to stay in one." Bucky nodded, flicking through the pamphlet. He put it in the compartment in his door, and revved the engine.

"To Long Island we go."

After a drive that seemed to last longer than the four would have liked it to, they arrived at Fire Island, and Steve took his sunglasses off to get a proper look, which he almost regretted due to the glare of the white sand, if it weren't for the beautiful colours.

Large, dark brown huts were dotted all around the beach, the largest a little way down, isolated from the others with its own fencing. The blue of the sea was a sight for sore eyes, with the twinkling of sunlight skimming the top and wavering in both the heat and the small, gentle shimmers of the sea.

Coloured towels and umbrellas sat atop areas of the sand, and volleyball pitches had been set up on various parts of the large beach.

On the other side, bars, shops, cafés and vastly different other things lined the street, each filled with a good amount of people.

The vibe on this sea front was a good one, and Steve could feel it, as if it were carried on the salt-smelling sea air being blown through the open windows of the car.

"It's really beautiful." Natasha whispered, putting everyone's elaborate thoughts into three simple words that said it all. Everyone nodded in agreement, and it felt even better to find a parking space, get out and feel the sun on their skin.

Before anything else, they decided to find the hut they'd be staying in before they'd bring bags out. Natasha pulled the key from her pocket and looked at the number on it.

"It's none of these." They looked at the ones surrounding them, and Natasha looked down the beach at the largest one. She sighed and shook her head.

"Maybe it's that one." Bucky pointed out, and he and Steve set off down to it.

"It would be." Natasha muttered under her breath, annoyed.

"What was that?" Sam asked, walking by her side with his hands in his pockets.

"I didn't say anything."

"No, I'm pretty sure you did."

"Shut up, Sam."

 

"What's the number on the key say?" Bucky called, reading the number on the door he stood at. Natasha sighed, and read it out, reluctantly.

"25." She read, monotonously.

"Yeah, this is us." Steve called, and she groaned.

"Woohooooo!" Sam called, and walked faster, taking the key from Natasha. She didn't even protest, and carried on her slow pace.

When they laid eyes on the interiors, everyone went silent. It was nice, it was beyond nice. The walls were a crisscross of bamboo sticks painted dark brown with a gloss coat that made them shine.

In the middle of the large room they stood in, was a long, cream couch in the shape of a U, with large cushions that looked as though you could sink into the couch and never get up from it again, from being so comfortable.

A round, brown coffee table sat on the floor in the middle of the U couch, and a big flat-screen television was mounted on the wall adjacent from the couch. Across the way was a kitchen space, with a small island in the middle, the workspaces made of smooth, black and white marble.

And above them, there was a large, square hole, that showed the upstairs, where the bedrooms and bathrooms would most likely be. Much to their surprise, however, someone stood, leaning against the banister that overlooked the downstairs area, smiling at the group, who had only just now been joined by Natasha. It was Tony Stark.

"Bruce, Clint!" He called, "Our new housemates are here!" He grinned down at them, and Clint rushed to look over the banister. Bruce, however, left his room, sighing at Tony, and smiled at the group as he walked down the stairs.

"Hi, guys. You all look as surprised as I was when I found out we'd be sharing."

"Hi Natasha!" Tony called down, and slid down the stair banister. "Hi Steve, hi Sam, hi Bucky!" He walked past them, into the kitchen, and looked into the fridge.

"Hey, Natasha?" Bucky asked, looking at her as she stood next to him.

"Listen," she said, knowing exactly what he was going to ask. "Tony asked me if we'd wanna stay with him, Bruce and Clint when we were here. And I said we would, because one, it's neat to just be able to stay on the beach, and two, I felt kinda bad after kicking him the other day." Bucky nodded slowly.

"So it's nothing to do with that little crush on Barton you have, then?" Natasha narrowed her eyes.

"What? Barnes, do you like having your testicles attached to you? Because if you don't, then I suggest you carry on with where you're going with this, and I'll rip them off with my bare hands when you're done." Bucky put his hand up.

"Okay, okay! I'll stop." He chuckled a little, dropping his hand as she walked away. This could be fun.

 

Once they had lugged their bags to the beach house, and picked the rooms they were going to have for the week, it had begun to get dark, and so everybody sat on the U couch.

"We have an extra room," Tony spoke, and pointed to Steve and Bucky, "because I forgot Brokeback Mountain over here would be sharing a room."

Steve lifted his head from Bucky's shoulder, frowning. "You got a problem, Stark?" Bucky asked, and Tony held his hands up.

"Oh. No, sorry. Hey, I'm all for homosexuality, rainbows and all that."

"What Tony means, but can't quite get across," Bruce cut in, "Is that he's sorry that his thinking skills lag 10 seconds behind his mouth, and that he meant no disrespect but that's just his kind of humour."

Bucky sat back and nodded, and Tony smiled sweetly at Bruce.

"What would I do without you, Brucey?" He asked, and Bruce scoffed, getting up.

"I dread to think." He said, looking in the fridge for a bottle of water.

 

Steve sat on the small, wooden porch, looking out at the deep blue sky, watching various shadowed figures still sitting on the beach, staring out at the sea, laughing and smiling at group jokes. He heard the door behind him open and close, letting a temporary glow from the house fall upon the sand.

"Whatcha doin', Stevie?" Bucky's voice asked, making Steve smile. He loved hearing Bucky's voice, and the way he called him Stevie. It wasn't much, but it was a sacred simplicity that Steve treasured, never getting bored of it for the amount of times Bucky had called him that.

"Just watching the sea and the stars." Steve replied, and patted the space next to him. Bucky sat down, and grinned at him. "What are you grinning at, you maniac?" Bucky threw his head back and laughed.

"I'm not a maniac!" He protested and Steve raised his eyebrows.

"Even after what you just did there? That weird cackle?" Bucky's mouth fell open.

"I don't cackle! How dare you, good sir!" Steve snorted and shook his head.

"Close your mouth, you look like a goldfish." He put his hand under Bucky's chin and pushed upwards, closing Bucky's mouth for him. Then, he pulled him closer, and kissed him, and the hint of beer in Bucky's mouth made his stomach lurch in excitement a little bit. He pulled away slowly, and Bucky frowned at the loss of contact.

"Have you been drinking?" Steve asked, trying (and failing, miserably) to keep the smile off of his face.

"Yup. Stark has loads of crates of beer, everyone's drinking." Steve narrowed his eyes a little.

"How illegal. Why didn't you tell me? I want some." He stood up, and Bucky latched onto his hand, pulling himself up.

 

"Hey, I've got an idea." Tony said, standing up, and swaying very slightly, though no one but Bruce noticed. "Why don't we start a bonfire? I think we should do that. Break the lawn in a little bit." Clint sighed.

"That's not a lawn, Tony, it's a patch of sand. And it's 11pm." Bucky lifted his head up to look at Clint and agree with him, and smirked when he saw his knee brushing with Natasha's, who sat closely next to him.

"Stop, you bunch of spoilsports. It's spring break, let's do it. We've got wood and everything, come on." Clint began to giggle.

"We've got wood." He repeated, and giggled again. Sam got the joke and began to laugh, and Tony stared at them until it snapped and his eyes widened, snorting at the phrase he'd used. Steve was next to laugh, his head thrown back, eyes crinkled, mouth open in a wide smile.

This made Bucky laugh, and then he got the actual joke, which made him laugh even more. Even Natasha and Bruce let out little giggles, and soon, everyone was pretty much in hysterics.

When everyone had finally calmed down, Tony nodded and flopped a hand up and down, dismissing his idea.

"Forget the bonfire for tonight. But I do wanna have one at some point in the week. So don't think I'm forgetting about it altogether." Everyone nodded, but people were beginning to yawn. Bucky turned his head to Steve.

"You wanna go to bed?" He whispered to Steve, and Steve nodded. "We're gonna go to bed, you guys. See you in the morning." Bucky said, standing up, and guiding a sleepy Steve up the stairs.

"No funny business!" Tony joked, and Bucky pointed a middle finger at him from over the banister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will there be funny business though? Gosh who knows
> 
> I'd be lying if I told you that's what Fire Island looked like. In fact I'm pretty sure it's not used as a spring break resort but we can pretend for now, okay? Okay.


	4. Robbers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'You find out,  
> Everything's gone wrong.'

Steve woke the next day, with Bucky's arm around him. He smiled blissfully, his cheek pressed against Bucky's warm chest, which rose and fell steadily, his heart thumping evenly against his ribcage. Everything was perfect when it was like this, no drama, no problems, just silent perfection without interruption.

He picked Bucky's arm up gently, and ducked under it, placing it carefully so that it was bent at the elbow, with his hand splayed out on his stomach. Steve smiled at how peaceful Bucky looked, his eyelashes fanned out above his cheeks, mouth slightly parted, letting out little snores.

Swinging his legs over the bed, Steve let out a little laugh to himself, and pulled on a pair of grey sweatpants. Once he'd gotten downstairs, he strode straight over to the kitchen and pulled out a carton of orange juice from the fridge.

"Good morning," a voice came from behind him, and Steve jumped, turning to face the living area. Bruce sat on the U couch, cross legged with a book in his hand.

"Oh, God Bruce! You scared the crap outta me, I thought I was the first one awake. Morning." Steve laughed a little.

Bruce smiled, "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Steve waved a dismissive hand.

"It's alright. You know where the cups are?"

"Top right cupboard." Bruce pointed, and Steve turned.

"Ah, thank you." He pulled a glass from the cupboard and filled it halfway with juice. "You want some?" He called to Bruce, and Bruce shook his head, holding up his own cupful.

"So," Steve said, sitting down. "What are you reading?"

"The Fault In Our Stars," Bruce said, looking up from the book. "I'm not really that into it. I found it on my bed upstairs, and I think Tony put it there because he's been bugging me to read it since he finished it a couple weeks back. But it's just not my kinda book, you know?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah, I read it a while back, I didn't see what the fuss was all about though. I guess maybe if it's not the kind of book you read then you're not gonna make as much of a fuss about it." He mused. "Didn't take Tony as the type of person to read a book like that, if I'm honest."

Bruce scoffed. "Tony's a real sap when it comes to those sort of books. He has a weak spot for them."

"You and Tony are real close, huh?"

"Yeah," Bruce nodded, "his dad's not so good. Doesn't really pay him much attention. And everyone kinda labels him as the spoilt, rich heir of Stark Industries. They'd be right to, only, Tony has a side to him that really contrasts to that label, and he's such an awesome person to be with when that side comes out."

Steve smiled softly, watching Bruce carefully, how his eyes lit up when he spoke about his best friend, about how different he actually was to what people thought of him.

"That Brokeback Mountain comment... That really is just his humour. He didn't mean any offence by it,"

Steve shook his head before Bruce could finish. "It's fine. Really. It was actually kinda funny, but Bucky and I weren't sure on whether he meant it in a nasty way or not." Bruce nodded.

"I get that. I feel like Tony's happy to have all of you guys here. There's a good vibe from everyone, and he really needs that kind of thing."

"Who needs that kind of thing? What's that kind of thing?" Tony's voice came from the stairs. Bruce's head turned to look at him.

"I was just telling Steve that we could all do with a calm, relaxed atmosphere." Tony stood behind Bruce, looking down at him with his arms crossed, and Bruce now tilted his head back to look at Tony.

"But you said 'he'. Who's 'he'?" Bruce sat forward and reached for his glass on the coffee table.

"Shut up, Tony."

"Okay. Morning, Steve." Tony walked to the kitchen.

"Morning, Tony." Steve smiled, and Tony turned.

"Where's your partner in crime?" He asked, and Steve chuckled.

"He's upstairs. Still sleeping." Tony nodded and turned around.

"I wish I could still be sleeping. Sadly, some of us have no volume control, and I was kept awake by the sound of your muffled talking." Steve's eyebrows drew together.

"We weren't being loud, were we?" He looked at Bruce, who was shaking his head.

"No, we weren't. Tony's bedroom is the one nearest to the stairs, so it was just easier for him to catch our voices." Tony narrowed his eyes at Bruce and spun on his heel in disdain.

"You were supposed to apologise, Bruce." He pouted.

"For what?" Bruce scoffed.

"Waking me up."

"So I'd be lying if I said you were already lying in bed awake before Steve even came downstairs?"

Steve looked at Bruce, who's eyes were looking around the room, as if he were looking for Tony's answer in the atmosphere. It didn't come, and Bruce sat back, smiling. Tony had lost this one.

 

Steve lay back on the U couch, watching everyone but Bucky gradually wake up. And once everyone was chatting enough that they wouldn't notice his absence, he slipped upstairs, and into the room he shared with Bucky.

Bucky's position had changed since Steve had last been in. Now, he was lying on his front, his cheek pressed against the bed and his arm stretched over the space Steve had slept in. Steve smiled, and crept forward, sitting on his side of the bed. He reached out and ran his hand through the short, soft tufts of Bucky's hair.

"You gonna wake up, bed head?" Steve whispered, and Bucky stretched his arm out more.

"Come back tomorrow." He replied, with a prominently husky morning voice. Steve smiled and shook his head.

"No can do. We can sleep when we're dead, but for now, we're on an awesome break with friends."

"Exactly. Break means sleep. Goodnight." Bucky reached for the covers and was about to draw them up over his head, but Steve caught his wrist.

"But _awesome break with friends_ means not sleeping for hours like an anti-social dick. Come on, Buck." Steve stood up, and opened the en suite door. "I'm gonna shower, and when I get out, I wanna see you awake and up." Bucky sighed exaggeratively.

"When you get out, I wanna see you naked." He mumbled a reply, his eyes still closed. Steve rolled his eyes and smirked, closing the door behind him.

 

Bucky stared up at the ceiling, listening to the water from the shower spray from the hose. He sighed quietly, and lifted himself from the bed, throwing on a pair of grey shorts. When he got downstairs, he was greeted by Bruce, Tony and Clint.

"Hi, magnetic prosthetic." Tony chimed, and Clint choked on his coffee. Bruce looked up from his book, to look carefully from Tony's face, to Bucky's, almost holding his breath. Tony's lips parted a little, not sure if he'd stepped over a line or not.

"Tony..." Bruce began, "I really don't think you should have-"

Bucky waved him off, and sat on the U couch between them all.

"It's alright, Bruce. That's actually quite funny." Bucky began to chuckle. "Magnetic prosthetic..." Bucky tested the nickname out, and laughed, looking at his metal prosthetic arm. "That's very clever. I'll allow that one, Tony."

Tony beamed. "I'd like credit for that, because it's so awesome I know everyone else is going to be using it. So just say, 'Copyright of Tony Stark' every time you say it, thanks guys." Clint and Bruce nodded, although it was clear that they didn't care much for what he was saying.

 

"It's so beautiful out there." Natasha panted, hauling shopping bags through the front door. Bucky stood up and took some from her, bringing them to the kitchen.

"Yeah," Sam breathed, bringing a few more in, "y'all should be out there sunbathing by now." He followed Natasha into the kitchen and began packing different things into different cupboards.

"We just got some essentials," he explained to Bucky, who helped them put things away. Natasha grabbed a bag full of an array of different products and jogged up the stairs, passing Steve out, who was on his way down.

"It's so stuffy in here guys," he said, walking over to the front door. "Leave this open for a while." He pushed it outwards, standing in the doorway to feel the heat of the sun on his skin.

Bucky lifted his head when he heard Steve's voice, and smiled. Steve's outline was golden due to the sun, and Bucky couldn't find a better way to put across just how much it described Steve as a person.

"You can go and shower now." Steve said, scratching the back of Bucky's neck as he walked behind him towards the kitchen.

"Why thank you, Steven." Bucky grinned, jumping over the back of the couch to get to the stairs.

"No problem, James." Steve called, watching Bucky climb the steps, two by two.

 

"So I was thinkin'," Sam began, as they all walked down the beach, "That we all go to the club tonight." He said, pointing over to a building on the high street across the road from the beach.

"That one?" Clint singled out the building, and Sam nodded.

"To check it out, see if it's worth all the hype it's getting."

"I'm up for it." Tony shrugged, and there was a murmur of agreement amongst the group. "Shall we go at seven?" He asked, and another murmur of agreement was passed through them.

"For now, though," Natasha said, stopping to lay her towel down on the sand. "I want to get some sort of colour on my skin, while the sun is at it's hottest." She sat down, laid back and put her hands behind her head.

"I think I'll join you." Bruce sighed, glad to have finally gotten some relaxation time. The group stopped and set up their towels and chairs, some of them bathing in the sun's heat, others staring at the sea, or the girls walking past in bikinis (Tony, Sam).

Two boys walked past, and glanced at the group. After giving them a once over, (Natasha got twice, three times over) they stepped backwards and stared.

"Hey, beautiful!" One of them called at Natasha, but she didn't look up. "With the red hair!" He called again, and her hands lifted to take her sunglasses off. She squinted at them, and recognised them, as the two boys from school who thought Steve and Bucky were 'disgusting' and 'unnatural'.

"What are you hanging with these freaks for?" The other said, pointing at Sam, Bruce, Steve and Bucky. "Beautiful girl like you should be hanging around with us." Tony and Clint rejoined the group with drinks.

"What's going on?" Tony asked, taking off his sunglasses.

"Tony Stark?!" The first boy asked, and Tony squinted his eyes.

"Irrelevant boy?" He questioned, and the boy blinked.

Bucky stood up, and Natasha joined him.

"It's alright, Buck." She said, calmly, and approached the boys. "Hang with you? Of course! I'd definitely drop my friends to hang around with a bunch of assholes like you who see nothing about me save the single fact that I have a vagina. Which, might I add, you're getting nowhere near. You wanna be humiliated even more, or you wanna keep on walking? Choice is yours but damn, the second choice is a lot more sensible."

"...Whatever." The second boy said, tugging his friends shoulder. They stalked off and Natasha sighed.

"Damn!" Sam whistled, and Steve was in fits of laughter.

"'See nothing about me save the single fact that I have a vagina'?" He quoted, and Natasha laughed a little, sitting back down.

"It's true!" She laughed, and shook her head. "I swear to God I was moments away from head butting them." She groaned, catching a soda bottle that Tony had thrown to her.

"Well, you handled it excellently." Bruce praised, and Natasha smiled.

"I'm looking for some sort of smartass comment," Tony said, handing her a bottle opener, "but I really can't find one. I am speechless."

"I thought you were gonna beat them up." Clint said, nonchalantly. "Which I would have done myself, had they not left." Natasha smiled, and felt a blush creeping up on her cheeks. She looked down and let her hair curtain her face. She wasn't going to let anyone see her blushing.

 

At 5:30, they arrived back at their accommodation to begin to get ready for going out to the club.

"We won't be I.D'ed, will we?" Natasha asked Sam, slipping earrings through the pierced holes in her ears.

"Nah, it's Spring Break, they won't have time to be looking for I.D."

"You never know, through." Steve said, and Sam shrugged.

"Hell, if we do get asked, then we just come back here and drink our own alcohol." He wore a mischievous smile, and winked at Steve.

 

The line outside of the club was long when they joined the back.

"By the time we get in there, it'll be closing." Bucky grumbled, looking at his watch. But Tony strolled straight past everyone, and got talking to the bouncers.

"Alright, come on up guys." He waved at the group, and they looked at each other. Clint walked on, and Bruce sighed, leading the rest of them towards the front. Tony took his sunglasses off and shrugged at the protesting people in the line.

"Get yourselves a Wikipedia page," he called at them, "and then you won't have to wait anymore."

The large room was dimly lit, but LED lights flashed around, and people wore UV paint on their hands, arms, legs, necks and faces, and were dancing like maniacs to a song that pulsed through the club.

"I'm gonna go get the drinks," Tony said, and collected everyone's order. "Will you help me, Bruce?" Bruce nodded and the two set off to the bar.

"Come on," Sam said, "Let's find a booth."

After a few drinks, everyone was a little tipsy and up dancing in the middle of the dance floor.

"I'm gonna go get drinks!" Sam shouted, "Can you come with me, Buck?" Bucky nodded and let go of Steve's hand, following him to the bar. Steve sat with Natasha at the booth, and Clint slid in next to her.

"You got a drink?" He asked her, and she nodded.

"Thank you, Clint, but Bucky's getting them." Clint laughed and struck up a better conversation, making Steve smiled as they laughed and joked together.

But he was wondering where Sam and Bucky were now, and so he turned his attention to the bar instead.

His eyes scanned along the bar, and he caught sight of Sam, so Bucky had to be near.

However, when he did find Bucky, he wished that he hadn't looked for him. His mouth ran dry and his chest tightened. He couldn't find his voice, he was lost for words.

"Tasha..." He whispered, but he knew she couldn't hear him. And so, Steve decided that air would be the best thing for him.

He got up abruptly, not daring to look back at the bar, and he pushed his way out of the door, letting the cool sea air engulf his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, I'm a bitch sometimes.
> 
> That 'magnetic prosthetic' thing was a nickname I made up all by myself so if you use it and don't credit my amazing rhyming skills, a fanfiction fairy will die somewhere and fanfictions of your favourite ship will be hidden from you for 24 hours.


	5. What You Wanted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'I'll find the places where you hide,  
> I'll be the dawn on your worst night  
> The only thing left that I like,  
> Yeah I would kill for you  
> That's right  
> If that's what you wanted'

_"Shit man, what the fuck did Tony want?"_

_Bucky stood with his back to the bar, smiling at Steve, watching him having fun without a care in the world._

_He'd give anything to see that look on Steve's face everyday, for the raincloud that lingered over his head to go away. But we can't all get what we want, and Bucky of all people knew that. Hell, he was lucky he got Steve._

_He turned to Sam when he heard him ask the question, and thought for a moment._

_"I can't remember." He concluded, shaking his head. "Let me call him."_

_He reached for his phone in his pocket, pulling it out and unlocking it to scroll through the contacts._

_"Hey, man." Someone said to him. Bucky looked up and nodded at him._

_"Hi." He replied, looking back at his phone_.

_"You're cute as hell you know." Bucky laughed, and shook his head, but he didn't lift it to look at him._

_"Thanks."_

_"Are you gay?" Sam was laughing now, and Bucky looked up, frowning._

_"Yes. I'm gay. But I'm here with someone."_

_"And is he the guy you're here with?" The person said, pointing to Sam._

_"No...he's-"_

_"Well then, we're good here." Bucky frowned in confusion, but when the boy grabbed fistfuls of_ _his shirt and pulled him towards him, his eyebrows shot upwards. He was kissing him now, and the man was trying to get his tongue in._

_Bucky pushed with all of his might, and Sam had to step in soon._

_"Hey man!" Sam said, pulling them apart. "He's here with his boyfriend, a'ight? Now back off!" The man shrugged, and licked his lips._

_"Whatever." He replied, walking away._

_Bucky wiped his mouth with the back of his hand in disgust, and turned to look at Natasha. But all that caught his eye was the skinny blur of a blonde haired boy storming out of the club. And his heart dropped._

_Steve had seen everything._

 

"Steve?" Natasha asked, watching him get up and leave. "Steve!" She called, and twisted her body around, using the table and the back of the chair to prop herself up higher to see where he was going.

Natasha frowned when she saw him push the door open as hard as he could, and looked around for Bucky. He stood at the bar, staring right back at her, the biggest frown on his face.

"Excuse me, Clint." She said, and he nodded, getting up so she could make her way out of the booth and over to Bucky.

"Why did Steve walk out like that? Did you have an argument earlier or something?"

"Natasha, he saw someone kissing me." Bucky began to panic, his heart began to race and there was a lump forming in his throat.

"What?" Natasha stared at Bucky in disbelief. "You kissed someone else?"

"No, Natasha no." He cried, grabbing her hands. "Nat you know how I feel about him. You _know_ I wouldn't do something like that."

Natasha nodded slowly, and looked at Sam. "So what happened?"

"This gay guy came up to Bucky and asked if he was here with anyone, Bucky said yeah, his boyfriend and this guy just says 'we're good here' or some shit and kisses him anyway? And Bucky's all trying to push him away but he won't let go so I'm here trying to pull him off like, hello, excuse me he has a boyfriend? What do you not understand about that? And then he leaves."

Natasha nodded, and looked at the door. "I need to find Steve. God knows where he's gone now. I really don't expect he'll have gone back to our place, though." She walked to the door and walked out, pulling her shoes off to walk along the beach and find Steve.

 

Steve sat at the other end of the beach to where they were all staying. He wanted to go further but he didn't really know where he was. At this point, he barely knew his own name.

He had cried so much, his face was cold from the icy air sticking to his cheeks. And he'd breathed in a lot of the air, so now his chest was all tight and his lungs hurt. Sure, his heart was broken but it wasn't that. And his asthma pump was all the way up in the house, in his bag.

He cried more now, in literal pain. He didn't really want to think about why Bucky had done it, he didn't want to think about it all. But that didn't mean that he actually didn't think about because, honestly, it was the only thing replaying in his head.

"Steve!" A voice called, and he recognised it to be Natasha's. "Steve, it's freezing out here. Come on, let's go back to the house." She said, standing over him.

Steve nodded, deciding he'd been out there long enough. He struggled up, and dusted the sand on his jeans off, before linking arms with Natasha.

"Jesus, Steve. You feel like ice. Are you feeling okay?" She asked, and all Steve could reply with was a shake of his head. Natasha sighed, and propped him up a little.

"Is... Everyone back?" He asked, in a hoarse voice.

"Yeah," Natasha nodded, "everyone left after I came looking for you."

"I-I don't want t-to see B-Bucky..." Steve began to sob a little and Natasha rubbed circles on his back in a soothing motion.

"I know." She said, nodding her head. "We'll put you in the spare room tonight."

 

"Guys," Natasha called into the house. "A little help here, please?" She pushed the door open to see Steve, collapsed on the wooden patio. Sam jumped up quickly, to pick Steve up.

"Where's Bucky?" She breathed, blowing a strand of hair out of her face.

"He's upstairs, in bits." Sam replied, hauling Steve up. Natasha sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

"Well he's going to have to pull himself together because I need Steve's oxygen mask and his asthma pump. Can you lay him on the bed in the spare room, please?"

Natasha knocked on Bucky's door, and he opened it, standing in the doorway. His eyes were red from crying, and his nose looked as if it had been rubbed raw.

"I need Steve's asthma things." She said, looking behind Bucky for Steve's bags. His eyes widened, and he stepped back, rushing to Steve's things and pulling out different pumps, an oxygen mask, tablets and then bringing them to Natasha.

"Where is he?" Bucky asked, his tone frantic.

"He's in the spare room next door." Natasha looked down at all of the things Bucky handed her. "Do you know how to use these? Because I sure as hell don't."

"Yeah, I'll do it for you." He said quickly, taking the things back and leaving the room.

 

"Steve, man. You a scary ass motherfucker when you do shit like this. And I know it's not your fault but it scares us, man." Sam whispered, sitting by Steve's bed.

"And what happened tonight shouldn't have happened. But it wasn't Bucky's fault and I will vouch for that 'til the day I die, if needs be." He poked Steve gently on his arm.

"Cause when you two together, you light up a whole damn room. Your laughter, your smiling and your joking, it's all so contagious to us and we can't help but join in. But tonight, that wasn't Bucky's fault. Some guy came and kissed him against his own will, and it was nothing else.

"And I don't care if I have to explain that to you everyday for the rest of my life, because if it means you guys stay together, it'll be easy as hell for me. And I've wasted my time startin' now because you're asleep and you haven't heard a damn thing."

Bucky walked in with a few medical looking things in his hands, and Sam stood up.

"You need help with that?" He asked, and Bucky nodded.

"Yeah, prop him up a little more, so he's kinda sitting upright."

Sam nodded and complied, while Bucky changed the tanks in the asthma pumps and connected one to an oxygen mask. He held the mask over Steve's mouth and nose and pressed down on the asthma pump, spraying the misty medicine through the mask so Steve could inhale it.

After a few intakes, Steve's breathing evened out and became less ragged. "Keep the oxygen mask on him, it'll help his breathing while he sleeps." Bucky said to Natasha. He kissed Steve on the forehead and left before anything else could be said.

That night, at about 3am, Bucky decided he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep when Steve was in the same house but wasn't next to him. So, he got out of bed and crept into the room next door, sitting on the chair beside Steve's bed.

He took Steve's hand and shuddered at how cold it was. He began rubbing it with the pad of his thumb, slowly and gently, making sure the other one was under the blankets.

"Steve." Bucky whispered, despair evident in his voice. "I'm so sorry. What happened today-" Bucky stopped because there was a lump in his throat and his eyes were welling up. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to get rid of the tears, but to no avail. They fell, and he decided he would just cry silently while he held Steve's hand.

After 20 minutes, Bucky heard a sigh, and thought nothing of it. But when he saw Steve's other hand reaching up to pull the oxygen mask down, his heart stopped. He was actually scared about what Steve was going to say to him.

Would he tell him to get out? Would he say he never wanted to see him again, or worse yet that he hated him? For the first time in his life, Bucky had found himself not wanting Steve to say anything to him, in fear that that 'anything' could be the only thing he'd never want to hear come from Steve's mouth.

"Bucky." But that was all he said. For now.

"Yeah, Steve?" Bucky replied quietly, looking him in the eye. He was confused. There was no look of hate, or disgust, or any sort of disappointment. It was just... Neutral. And Bucky wasn't sure if he liked how neutral Steve was being.

There was silence for a while, like they were both looking for the answers in each other's blue eyes. Bucky still had Steve's hand in his own, and Steve hadn't even made an effort to pull it away.

"Was Sam right?" Steve finally whispered, and confusion flashed through Bucky's eyes.

"When did you speak to Sam?" Bucky asked.

"I didn't speak to him. He spoke to me and gave me the story from his point of view. He thought I was asleep, but I wasn't, I was just too weak to open my eyes, or respond."

"And...and did he tell you that the guy completely forced himself on me? That I'd said I was here with my boyfriend and he kissed me anyway?" Steve nodded, and Bucky kissed his hand.

"Then yes, Sam was right. You need to understand, Steve. I..." He sighed, and dropped his head.

"What is it, Buck?" Steve pressed, putting his hand under Bucky's chin to lift his head.

"I love you, Steve. I love you and I've been wanting to say it for a while now. I've been talking to Nat about it for ages and she kept urging me to tell you, but I couldn't find the right moment.

"But now, you need to know that I love you and that I couldn't live without you. That I wouldn't even dare take a chance without you, and I wouldn't do something as stupid as cheat on you when that's top of the list of 'how to fuck a relationship up'." Bucky breathed, looking into Steve's answer, suddenly desperate for him to say something, a contrast from earlier.

"You love me?" Steve smiled, and Bucky narrowed his eyes slightly, and grinned.

"Yeah, I do."

"You really love me?" "Yes, Steve, I really love you. An 'I love you too' would be nice." Steve laughed, and grabbed Bucky's hand.

"I'm sorry. I love you too. I really love you too." A smile spread across his face, and Bucky leaned forward.

"Can I...?" He asked, looking at Steve's lips.

"When have you ever asked before?" Steve teased, grabbing a fistful of Bucky's hair to pull him down for a kiss. "I don't like this room. Let's go back to our one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and fluff


	6. Kiss Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Settle down with me,  
> Cover me up,  
> Cuddle me in.  
> Lie down with me,  
> And hold me,  
> In your arms.'

Bucky was the first to wake of the two, this time. But everyone else was up and awake, from what bustle he could make out from downstairs.

He breathed in through his nose, rubbing his eyes and stretching his arm out. The sun was shining through a crack in the drawn curtains.

A stream of sunlight filtered through it and hit a metal zip on one of his bags. The blindingly-white small glare from it caught Bucky's eye slightly, making him turn his head toward Steve.

Steve lay on his front, one arm bent under his pillow, the other also bent so his hand lay flat against the material, parallel from his face. His cheek was pressed to the pillow, slightly squashing one side of his only-just parted lips upward.

Bucky smiled and laid his hand flat on different parts of Steve's torso, to check that his breathing was okay. It was better than it was last night, his breaths were slow and even.

Bucky noticed that Steve wasn't as sharp and pointy anymore. There was more tone to his flesh, like he had been working out a little. Bucky worked his way up to Steve's arm and found that his bicep had also found itself a little tone.

"Are you taking advantage of me while I sleep?" Steve mumbled, eyes still closed, his voice thick with sleep. Bucky smiled, and nodded.

"Yeah, I am. Terrible of me, I know." He whispered, his eyes glinting with adoration for Steve.

Steve's eyes fluttered open, and he blinked slowly, staring up at Bucky through his lashes.

"You're really pretty when you sleep." Bucky whispered, combing his fingers through Steve's hair.

"I am?"

"You are."

Steve smiled and propped himself up on his elbow, leaning forward to kiss Bucky. Bucky reached his hand up, resting it on the back of Steve's head, who was sitting more upright now.

Eventually, Bucky guided Steve so that he was straddling him, sitting on his mid-thigh. Folding his fingers underneath the elastic of Bucky's boxers, Steve's breath came out confidently as he pulled them down.

The only sound that held any sort of attention was the audible, deep breaths, continuously escaping their lips. Bucky's length stood right in front of Steve, almost begging for attention.

Wrapping a hand around his shaft, Steve leaned in closer to Bucky, kissing him softly, as he, in a twist-like motion, made the first stroke. Bucky's attempt at trying to kiss him back failed as an uncontrollable moan erupted from within his throat, almost making Steve grin with satisfaction.

His hand skimmed Steve's jaw line, as he almost desperately tried to contain his moans so he could properly kiss him. But Steve knew there was only so much he could do.

Steve guided his hand upwards, sticking his thumb out and bending it over the head. Pressing it down, he rubbed his thumb in a circular motion before allowing it to join the rest of his hand and quickly stroking downward.

Bucky's head fell forward a little, his forehead hitting Steve's collarbone as he cursed under his breath, attempting to control his breathing. But he had been largely affected.

Steve's body burned with arousal as Bucky's hot breath hit his chest, making him swallow hard.

Leaning forward, Steve bit Bucky's bottom lip, dragging it out a little bit, making his eyes widen. With his free hand, he ran his fingers through Bucky's soft brown hair as he continued to kiss him. It wasn't an agonisingly slow kiss, nor was it a messy one. It held the perfect pace and exchanged feelings neither of them could verbalise, due to their arousal.

Stroking him softly, Steve made sure not to bore Bucky by squeezing the base with a stroke downward, causing his head to fall back as he let out a deep, hoarse groan.

His eyelids were closed, flickering every so often. Steve leant down and kissed Bucky's neck, darting his tongue out at different spots, leaving a cool sensation on his neck. Bucky tilted his head a little, to make room for Steve's mouth. He licked and sucked, nipping at the skin a little, the index finger of his free hand tracing Bucky's collarbone.

" _Steve,_ " Bucky moaned as Steve kissed his neck, tenderly. Steve wasn't absolutely sure what it was, but he figured there was something so arousing about hearing someone moan your name. As if they were acknowledging you and appreciating your efforts.

 

Minutes later, Steve could feel Bucky beginning to tremble underneath his soft touch, getting closer to hitting his peak. His head was tilted backwards still and his chest rose and fell quickly in a continuous pattern, as heavy pants escaped his mouth. His grip became tighter and he parted his lips to let out one final groan as his body writhed underneath Steve's.

He released onto his stomach and chest, and Steve let go, sitting back a little to watch Bucky in aftershock. Bucky panted, his head tilted back, resting on the headboard. Steve smiled mischievously, happy with the result of his doing.

Bucky looked even more attractive when overwhelmed with pleasure, with beads of sweat clinging to the roots of his hair and the skin on his chest. Finally lowering his head back down to face Steve, Bucky licked his lips through the heavy breathing.

Slowly, his eyelids peeled open to stare at Steve. Steve ducked his head down, and pecked Bucky's lips lightly.

"I love you." Bucky said slowly, like he was still in his little euphoria. Steve laughed and kissed his forehead, scratching the hairs at the back of Bucky's head.

"I love you too, Buck. You wanna get cleaned up, now?" Steve said, sliding his index finger along Bucky's chest, and placing it in his mouth to suck the cum off. Bucky followed his movements closely, his lips parted the whole time.

"You're so hot." He breathed, and Steve winked. "I bet I am. And I meant a shower, because I'm not licking it off you." He replied, climbing off Bucky.

"Aw." Bucky pouted, pulling his boxers off altogether, and tossing them into a laundry basket. "Well, would you care to join me in the shower then?" He winked, and Steve threw a pillow at his face.

"Shut up and get in."

 

"Well, I'll be damned. You just get laid?" Tony asked, as Steve padded down the stairs.

"What? No." Steve laughed, flicking the kettle on. Tony raised his eyebrows and nodded.

"Oh really? Yeah, I believe that. Definitely, definitely believe that. Not that your hair is giving it away that you're lying or anything." He said, pointing at Steve's dishevelled blonde locks.

"Uhhh..." Steve trailed off, lifting his hands to sort his hair out.

"I hope you washed your hands." Tony teased, and Steve scowled at him.

"Of course I did."

"So you did get laid!" Tony shouted, triumphantly. Steve blushed violently, and he turned his back so he faced the kettle.

"Shut up, Tony." He said, quietly. "Where is everyone?" He asked desperate to change the subject.

"They're all outside, sitting in the sun. We're gonna have that bonfire I was talking about, we're gonna do it tonight." Tony replied, and Steve nodded.

"Clint said we should make pot brownies." Tony said, casually. Steve choked on his tea and put his cup down.

"What? As in the drug?" Tony laughed.

"Yeah, the drug. We're gonna do it, sounds like fun. I very nearly said YOLO, but then I thought I'd be disgusted with myself for the rest of my life, so, you know, I didn't."

"Wait can we just... You're going to make pot brownies? Where are you even going to get the pot?" Steve's eyes were wide.

"I have a few contacts. I'm Tony Stark!" Tony called, opening the front door and stepping out onto the porch.

"What's he talking about?" Bucky asked, watching as Tony closed the door out behind him. He began walking down the stairs, looking over the banister at Steve.

"Everyone wants to make pot brownies later, and eat them tonight at the bonfire Tony still hasn't forgotten about." Steve said, handing Bucky the cup of tea he was just drinking. "I'm gonna go shower now, they're all outside on the porch."

Bucky nodded and sipped the tea, watching Steve go upstairs. Pot brownies? Bucky thought, looking towards the front door. In front of a bonfire? That doesn't sound particularly safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not very long but this chapter is on fire. And there may be more fire. Because you guys deserve this kind of fire cos I love you all for even reading this.
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments, I read them all and they make me smile and squeal and do a little dance when you praise me for keeping everyone in character and making you want to read on.
> 
> Thank you so so much, I love you all


	7. Brooklyn Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'And my jazz collection's rare,  
> I can play most anything,  
> I'm a Brooklyn baby  
> I'm a Brooklyn baby'

"Wait, does anyone know how to make pot brownies?" Tony asked, raising his voice over the buzz. Everyone stopped talking, and there was silence.

"Is it not obvious?" Clint asked and Tony shrugged.

"I would have thought it was, just make brownie mix and put in some pot right? But then what if that's not actually how you do it?"

"I'm sure that's how you do it, Tony." Natasha sighed, and Tony shrugged again.

"I don't know. At least we can say we tried. Plus, if it turns out wrong, who can blame us? It's our first time doing it." Sam laughed.

"We're gonna need some brownie mix too, you know. We ain't just gonna be pullin' chocolate outta thin air."

"That's true," Bruce said, "we should probably go and get some from the shops."

"Bruce?" Tony sat forward. "You're with us on this? You're okay with us doing this?" There was clear surprise in his voice.

"I can have fun too, Tony." Bruce scowled at him, standing up. "Come on, Sam, let's go get the mix." He said, and Sam nodded, following Bruce's actions.

"Where are we gonna get firewood for the bonfire?" Natasha asked, and Tony pointed a thumb behind him, towards the house.

"The fireplace in there has a few logs of wood in it. We can steal them and set fire to them out here."

"Steal them?" Clint asked, laughing. They're yours to do what you want with them." Tony rolled his eyes.

"Yeah but I feel more rebellious when I say steal. Don't burst my bubble."

"So have you guys decided what you're doing?" A voice came from the door, and everyone looked back.

"Bucky!" Tony called. "Come sit. Have you been informed of the plan?" Bucky lowered himself into the seat and leaned back.

"I can't say I have. Not fully, anyway. I know as much as pot brownies and a bonfire." Clint tilted his head from side to side.

"I can't really see what else there is to explain. You pretty much know the deal." Tony nodded, and so did Natasha, so Bucky nodded an 'okay' and sat forward again.

"Hey, where are Sam and Bruce?" He asked, looking around the beach.

"They went to get the brownie mix." Natasha replied.

"Can't make pot brownies without brownies!" Tony chimed, making Clint laugh.

"Well done, Tony. Great job." He smiled at Tony.

"Clint, has anyone ever told you that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit? Because I'm telling you now. Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit." Tony sulked, and Clint laughed again, fixing his slim sunglasses.

Steve appeared at the door, his hair slightly damp and spiky from the shower he had taken.

"Have you discussed the bonfire thing any further?" He asked, taking the seat next to Bucky.

"Yes, we have." Tony grinned. "It's gonna be awesome."

"We got the stuff!" Sam called from afar, holding a brown paper bag above his head. He and Bruce reached the group, and Sam pulled out the packet of brownie mix, shaking the box to create a dry rustle.

"Show me," Natasha said, and Sam threw the box over. She studied the box carefully, and her face relaxed once she had. "Hey Buck," she said, holding the box up. "Remember?" Bucky squinted at the box, and then his eyes widened.

"Oh God, I remember those! We were so good at making them. Remember we'd make our moms buy the mix all the time?" Natasha laughed and nodded.

"Shall we make them again?" She asked, and Bucky stood up.

"Hell yeah! Come on, let's get started."

"Remember those cupcakes we made when we were nine?"

"Oh, they were so nice."

Tony frowned at them, watching them walk through the front door, reminiscing about baking. He turned to Clint, who shrugged.

"Your boyfriend bakes?" He asked Steve, who nodded.

"Yeah, and he's damn good at it too. You're really in for a treat." Steve smiled, and Tony shrugged.

"A future assassin and a tough guy with a fake arm both bake, together. Who would have guessed?" He sighed, standing up. "Clint, come and get the pot with me. I need to make a phone call, and then we'll be on our way." He turned to Steve, Bruce and Sam. "When we get back, there'd better be a cracking bonfire out here." He pointed, narrowing his eyes.

"Tony," Natasha poked her head out of the door. "Will you hurry up? We need to bake the brownies with the pot in it." Tony nodded and sped off, Clint in tow.

Steve and Bruce hauled the logs from the fire place out to the front of the house. Bucky turned and watched Steve carry them out of the door. When he came back, he frowned a little.

"You okay there, Stevie?" He called, and Steve furrowed his eyebrows.

"Yeah, why?" He asked. "Those logs not too heavy?" Bucky asked, and Steve rolled his eyes.

"No, they're fine. Thanks, though." He replied, the thanks not sounding sincere. It was Bucky's turn to frown now.

"I was just asking..." He trailed off, as Steve took two more logs outside, not bothering to stop and let Bucky explain himself.

He came back in with Bruce, and sighed when he saw Bucky still standing staring at the front door. "Am I allowed to get some logs?" Steve asked, and Bucky sighed.

"Steve, I was just-"

"No, you know what? I'm tired of everyone looking at me like I'm some sick puppy. Feeling sorry for me because I'm weaker than most. You, more than anyone." He said, and took two more logs back out. He didn't come back in after that. Bucky sighed and ran his hand down his face, scratching the back of his head.

"Leave him to it, Bucky." Natasha said. "Mix this, hard and fast. It'll help you get your frustration out." She nudged him, handing him the bowl full of brownie mix.

 

"We're back!" Tony called, and threw a small, clear bag towards Bucky and Natasha. She caught it and opened it.

"Quarter ounce?" She asked, and Tony nodded, handing her a grinder. She opened the lid and put the broken up weed in, closing the grinder and twisting it in her hands.

When she'd finished, Natasha tipped the crushed weed into her hand and began sprinkling it into the mix. Once she'd done that, Bucky poured it into a tray and slipped into the oven.

Everyone sat around the bonfire, laughing and joking. It was dark now, and the orange from the crackling flames illuminated everyone's faces. Steve sat, looking at his fingers, and Bucky sighed. The oven let out a dinging noise, signalling the brownies were done, so Bucky stood up.

"Steve, can you help me with the brownies please?" He asked, and Steve nodded, following Bucky into the house, Natasha's eyes tracking their every move.

Bucky cut the brownie slab into squares and left them on a plate. "They're gonna need to cool for a while, can we sit and talk while we wait?" He asked Steve.

"Okay." Steve said quietly, and sat down on the u couch. Bucky sat down beside him, and grabbed his hand.

"I don't mean to do what you said earlier, Steve. I don't mean to worry over you so much and make sure that you're doing okay all the time but that's all it is. It's me worrying about you, making sure you're comfortable, that you're happy." Steve nodded, and rested his head on Bucky's shoulder.

"See it's like me with my night terrors. You worry about them, right? You make sure I'm okay every time I have them, you make sure that I'm comfortable and you let me know you're there.

"You do that because you're worried and you do it because you want to be sure that I'm alright. And that's all I'm doing with you, making sure that you're not putting any pressure on your lungs, or enough pressure on them for them to play you up." Steve nodded once more and sighed.

"I shouldn't have snapped earlier, Buck. It just gets repetitive, people asking if I'm alright, or if I need help. But I snapped at the wrong person and I'm sorry." Bucky shook his head and squeezed Steve's hand.

"I understand, babe. Don't worry about it. Now, I'd say those brownies were cool enough to eat, right?"

 

"Space cake! Okay so we all have to take a bite at the same time, alright?" Tony said, holding his brownie near his mouth.

"Man, shut the hell up." Sam said, chewing on his second bite.

"Okay everyone except Sam."

"And Clint." Clint said, taking a third bite.

"And Natasha."

"And Bruce."

"I actually hate all of you." Tony sulked, sitting back in his chair, taking the first bite. "These don't taste like brownies." He said, staring at the brown cake in his hand.

"Yeah no shit, dude. That's cause they have weed in them." Clint said, dusting his hands off.

"Wow, really Clint? Gosh, I'd forgotten!" Tony mocked, and Clint rolled his eyes.

"Can you two go a day without being sarcastic to one another?" Natasha asked, wiping her hands on a cloth.

"Apparently not." Clint mumbled, and Natasha looked at him.

"What did you say?" She asked, and he swallowed.

"I said 'apparently not'." He clarified, a lot louder this time.

"Don't mumble," Natasha said, "it's rude."

"Yes ma'am." Clint saluted.

 

Half an hour later, and each of them were slumped in their chairs, staring at the fire.

"Okay, alright, I got one. What would you do," Sam asked, "if there was a zombie apocalypse. Like, who would you want to be alive with you, where would you stay, what would be your preferred weapon, that sort of shit."

"That's easy," Tony scoffed. "I'd totally use this repulser beam I'm working on for a weapon. It's so freaking powerful, seriously it's like a hot bullet that would take your whole head off."

"Are you allowed that kind of technology at your age?" Bucky asked, playing with Steve's hair, who sat cross-legged on the ground between Bucky's legs.

"Who even knows, man. Like, are we really even allowed anything? Ever? We're just allowed what we're allowed because it suits the government." Tony drawled.

"Like, take the pot we just consumed. Government keeps it under locks cause they can't tax it. But cigarettes, they kill more people every year yet they're the ones that are legal? 'Cos the government can put a tax on them, and that's why they're so expensive, because half of what we pay for them goes into their pockets."

"You got a point." Steve sighed, resting his head back against Bucky's crotch. Bucky shifted and twitched a little at the friction against his pelvic area. Steve didn't notice.

Bucky looked at Natasha and Clint. Natasha was drawing circles on Clint's open palm, and Clint's eyes were closed in bliss.

The sight almost sobered Bucky up. He had never seen Natasha be this close with a boy, she'd never show any kind of intimacy when she was in front of others.

Everyone had loosened up so much, and even before they'd eaten the brownies, everyone had become more relaxed around each other from staying in the same house for a few days.

 

Steve looked in the fridge, eyeing all of the food products in there. He moved to the cupboards, and pulled out biscuits, chocolate, chips, and candies.

Bucky leaned against the counter, watching him. His lips were parted and his eyes slowly following Steve around the room. He wanted to melt into his bed.

"You ever had sex when you're high?" He asked, suddenly. Steve shook his head, and turned around to face Bucky. He swallowed the mouthful of food.

"Well considering this is my first time getting high, and you're the only person I've had sex with, I'd go for no." He replied.

Bucky laughed and took Steve's hand, pulling him closer. "Do you want to have high sex?" He whispered in his ear, and Steve swallowed.

"I might." Bucky smirked and pulled his head back to look Steve in the face.

"You might?" He raised his eyebrows.

"I mean, I do." Steve nodded over and over again, making Bucky smile.

 

Bucky pushed Steve down onto their bed, pulling his shirt up over his head and tossing it over to a dark corner in the dimly lit room.

Steve took his own off, throwing it in the same direction, and running his hands down Bucky's torso. His skin felt like silk beneath his fingertips, making him want to moan already.

Bucky dipped his head low and kissed Steve's soft, pink lips, groaning as Steve fumbled about with their belts, his hands brushing against their crotches.

 

Once all clothes had been removed, Bucky positioned himself and pushed slowly into Steve, making him arch his back up from the bed.

Steve clutched at Bucky's shoulders, fingernails digging little dents into his tanned skin. He couldn't keep the little moans from escaping his lips, his fingers finding their way into Bucky's hair, giving little tugs every so often.

Bucky couldn't describe euphoria like this. He was sure this was better than euphoria. He couldn't believe how lucky he was, leaning down to kiss Steve's lips in between bursts of pleasure.

He wasn't sure where Steve had been all of his life, and why he was with him now. Why he was with him, telling him he loved him so much between gasps, and why he wasn't with someone who could offer him so much more than Bucky thought he had to offer.

But he had to be grateful for the fact that Steve was here, making his life better, making him a better person and giving him something, or someone, to work for.

Steve had given Bucky a purpose, he'd helped see Bucky just how beautiful life could be. Still, he was such a troubled boy himself, with all sorts of health maladies, and problems at home, yet he was the kindest, sweetest, most beautiful boy who never complained about life dealing him a rotten set of cards.

And when Bucky's orgasm coursed through his veins, he felt so lucky for it to be Steve that he fell asleep next to, and who he was going to wake up next to, and who he was going to love for as long as he could breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I don't upload regularly.  
> I'm a terrible human being.


	8. Xo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'We don't have forever,  
> Oh baby, daylight's wasting  
> You better kiss me  
> Before our time has run out.'

When Steve awoke the next morning, there was an ache in his head that he couldn't even attempt to put to words.

He dragged himself into the shower, the water drumming down onto his head, making the headache worsen.

After getting out and drying his hair, Steve stared at Bucky sleeping, envying him.

"Just 20 minutes more..." He whispered to himself, sliding under the duvet and wrapping his arms around Bucky's warm torso.

 

An hour and a half later, Steve's eyes peeled open. He breathed as deeply as he could without sparking a coughing fit, and checked the time on his phone.

"Shit," he whispered, sitting up, looking at Bucky's sleeping form next to him.

"Buck," he called, shaking Bucky with his hand. Bucky groaned and mumbled some incoherent nonsense, making Steve smile.

"Come on Buck, it's 1pm. We're wasting the day."

 

"We could have stayed asleep." Bucky grumbled, pushing his sunglasses further up his nose to hide his tired eyes from the glare of the sun on the sand. "No one would have even cared."

Steve waved at the group, and elbowed Bucky in the ribs.

"Stop complaining. We're gonna sit and socialise because we didn't come on this break to be anti-social." He warned through gritted teeth, still grinning at the group, who were lying on the sand.

"We weren't sure whether you were alive or not." Tony said, smiling at Bucky.

"Yeah, well here we are, back from the dead." Bucky said, throwing himself down next to Natasha.

"Can't get rid of us that easily." Steve smiled, grabbing a bottle of beer from the icebox.

 

The sun settled on their skins quickly, a brown beginning to show on the surface. After a while, it began to pass and the shade fell over them, which was appreciated by everyone.

"I love you." Bucky whispered in Steve's ear, and Steve smiled.

"I love you too."

"I love you, and I love that I can say it."

"Does it feel weird?" Steve asked, turning his head to look at Bucky.

"Kinda," Bucky shrugged, "but it's a good weird. Makes my stomach feel all jumpy."

"Like butterflies?" Steve teased, and Bucky shouldered him lightly.

"Yeah. Like butterflies. I love you. I love you. I love you I love you I lo-"

"Okay, Buck. I get the idea. I love you too, more than anything. Alright?"

"Alright." Bucky said, and took Steve under his arm. "How's your head?"

"Could be better. Definitely would be better if I wasn't drinking this." Steve held up his beer bottle, and Bucky laughed.

"Sun didn't help?"

"Sun made it worse. It's getting better now we're in the shade, though."

"That's good." Bucky smiled, and kissed Steve's forehead.

 

"They're so cute." Natasha smirked, staring at them. Tony nodded in agreement.

"Why can't we be like that, Bruce?" Bruce didn't even look up from his book.

"Because we're not dating, Tony." He said, as though he'd said it a thousand times before.

"Ah," Tony nodded comprehendingly. "There's the catch. We should be dating, though."

"Whatever you say." Bruce sighed, and Clint laughed, leaning back on his elbows.

"Do you ever give Bruce a break, Tony?" He asked, and Tony looked at him as though he had asked the most stupid question in the history of stupid questions.

"I think you'll find that when you sign up to be friends with Anthony Stark, you don't get a 'break', Clint."

"Your full name is Anthony?" Sam pointed at Tony, who nodded.

"Well I'll be damned."

"Are you gonna start calling yourself Anthony now?" Natasha asked, taking a drink from her bottle.

"Um, the name _is_ on my birth certificate, Natasha."

"Shut up, you know what I mean."

 

"We have stupid friends." Steve whispered to Bucky, as the sound of the group arguing filled in as background noise.

"I couldn't agree more." Bucky sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't posted for ages. I have serious writers block, that's why this chapter is super shit, but I thought it'd be better to give you guys something than just leave you with nothing.


	9. Careful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a Clintasha chapter. I want you all to know how much I love Clint and Natasha both individually and as a pairing.
> 
> I settled down,   
> A twisted up frown,  
> Disguised as a smile, well  
> You would have never known.

Clint walked down the beach, towards the house with Natasha at his side.

He was debating on what to say to her, and settled on the idea of asking her about herself.

"So how comes you and Bucky are so close?" He asked, and mentally kicked himself at how jealous it made him sound.

Natasha laughed and took a drink from her bottle, readying herself to answer.

"We met at a support group when we were about eight years old."

"Support group?" Clint asked, and Natasha nodded.

"Yeah, for traumatic experiences."

"Oh. You needed a support group?"

Natasha shrugged her shoulders and looked at the sky, noting the pretty swirls of blue and orange creeping up as the sun set.

"Didn't necessarily need it. My dad is a Russian gangster, that in itself can be a little traumatising but I don't think I needed support. I haven't seen my dad for years anyway."

"Did it help?" Clint worried he was prying too much, but Natasha was answering him with a seemingly positive attitude.

"Nah. But that's how I became friends with Bucky. He was going because he'd recently lost his arm in an accident, and we both thought the group was bullshit. So we bailed and became each other's support group."

They approached the front door, and Clint stopped outside of it.

"So you've been friends since?" Natasha nodded, and Clint nodded in understanding.

"We're each other's closest friends. I even taught him a few words in Russian."

"You speak Russian?"

"A little, yeah." Natasha smiled at Clint's face, his mouth slightly open in awe.

"Seems like a really hard language, man."

"Yeah, it is. But it gets easier as you learn, trust me. Sometimes I prefer speaking Russian to English." Clint nodded and thought for a bit.

"Can you say something in Russian now?" Natasha rolled her eyes.

"I can, but I'm not gonna." She smiled, winking at Clint.

"Fair enough." Clint laughed.

"So what about you?" Natasha asked, sitting down on the porch. "What's your story?"

"My story?" Clint asked, settling himself down beside her. The dark wood was hot from being in the sun all day, but neither of them noticed much.

"Yeah, your story. Tell me about yourself." Clint breathed in through his nose and let it out slowly, as he thought.

"Not really as hardcore as yours I guess. But I grew up in the circus for a lot of my life, with my mom and dad."

"Oh yeah?" Natasha raised her eyebrows. "What was your area of expertise?" They both laughed a little at the phrase, and Clint stood up, lining three beer bottles up on the fence of the porch.

"Can I borrow your hair ties?" He asked, and Natasha took three of them off of her wrist.

He pulled them back and let them go, and one by one, the empty beer bottles fell back onto the sand below the porch.

"That... Is pretty fuckin' awesome." Natasha stood next to him, with her hands on her hips. "So you've basically got excellent aim?" Clint kicked at the bits of sand scattered across the porch and smiled.

"Yeah. I'm pretty nifty with a bow and arrow, and sometimes they got me to step in for the knife throwing act, when the woman wasn't around."

"So you're not there anymore?" Natasha asked, her head cocked slightly to the side.

"Damn, no." Clint scoffed. "I'm glad of it too. It was a shit life. Being a circus kid meant not having a stable home, or family. Kinda sucked."

"And you're happy now?" "Number of people giving me orders is down to about...3. So hell yeah, I'm happy." He grinned.

 

Tony, Bruce, Steve, Sam and Bucky all sat around the U couch, talking about something. The talking fell to silence when the front door opened, and they turned to look.

"You get the beers?" Tony called, searching Natasha's hands. Clint held the bags up, and the group cheered a little.

"We found a shop that doesn't ask you for ID, and they're kinda cheap too." Natasha said, kicking her shoes off. Clint passed the beers around and nodded along with Natasha's words.

"Yeah," he said, throwing himself onto the couch, "It's two shops down from our usual shop. I think we should use that one from now on."

"Well considering it's not so far from our usual, you guys took a hell of a long time." Steve hinted, and the group erupted into a barrel of noise, teasing Clint and Natasha, who's faces were growing red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aye Clintasha 
> 
> I wanted to write a little bit about their backgrounds, give you a reason as to why Natasha and Bucky are best friends, and what Clint's life has been like so far.
> 
> Clintasha chapter is better than no chapter, right?
> 
> Once again, your comments leave me beaming like in the happiest person on earth. I love all of you. Very much.


	10. Waves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'I wish I could make it easy  
> Easy to love me, love me  
> But still I reach  
> To find a way  
> I'm stuck here in between  
> I'm looking for the right words to say
> 
> Slowly drifting,  
> Drifting away,  
> Wave after wave  
> Wave after wave'

That night, Bucky's tossing and turning became a little more violent. Steve found himself actually ducking to avoid Bucky's wild swings, and in the end, caught himself knocking on Natasha's door.

"Come in?" A muffled voice sounded from the other side of the door, and Steve pushed the handle hastily.

Natasha sat up in bed, and turned the bedside lamp on to catch a better look at who was standing in the room.

"Steve?" She questioned, swinging her legs over the bed.

"It's Bucky," Steve began to panic, and he could feel his lungs restricting. "He's having a really bad night terror, throwin' punches and all sorts. I dunno how to stop it." He said, his words becoming clipped as his lungs struggled to inhale - and exhale - air.

Natasha stood up and rushed past Steve into the room he shared with Bucky.

Bucky lay sprawled out in the bed, thrashing around, the blankets completely kicked off of the bed. His arm was swinging wildly, and Steve was beginning to panic even more.

Natasha gave herself four seconds to assess the situation, assess his position, before she moved to action.

Climbing onto the bed, she manoeuvred Bucky into a position where he was lying on his front.

Then, she straddled his hips, and hit three pressure points in his back that briefly paralysed him.

Steve watched, concerned, as Natasha held Bucky down. His shoulders were tensed up, and then suddenly, they relaxed, and Bucky could be heard groaning.

"Natasha?" He asked.

"James?" She replied, warily.

"Don't call me that."

"Just checking." She replied, climbing off of him.

"Is he okay?" Steve asked, his shaking hands fumbling for his asthma pump.

"Yeah, he's good." Natasha confirmed, and Steve nodded.

"Okay, good. Just gonna go and.." He held the pump up and pointed out of the door, and Natasha nodded.

"Where's he going?" Bucky asked, hazily.

"To use his asthma pump."

Bucky sat up. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah," Natasha sat down on the end of the bed, "he just got a bit of a shock. He's doing good. Are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm good. Sorry for waking you up."

"You didn't wake me up, Steve did. And it's a good thing too, you might have beaten the boy half to death if he hadn't come to get me." Bucky drew his eyebrows together in confusion, and Natasha explained further.

"You were thrashing really violently, Buck. You need to talk to someone about it, get some help. I've told you countless times, and I'm sure Steve has told you once or twice." She tried to look into his eyes, but Bucky only dropped his head in shame.

"I know." He nodded, his head still dropped. "I need it as soon as possible. I thought this holiday might help but it's clearly getting worse."

"Some professional help would be a better idea." Natasha stood up, and picked the blankets up from the floor, throwing them back onto the bed.

"Yeah, I know. I'll get it. Thanks for tonight, Nat."

 

Steve put his pump on the counter in the kitchen and rummaged around for ice.

When he found it, he placed some cubes in a paper towel and pressed it against his forehead.

"Don't tell Bucky about that." Natasha's voice came from behind him, and he jumped.

"Oh god." He breathed, and sighed. "I wasn't going to." He finally replied, and she nodded.

"It'd break him. If he ever found out that he'd hurt you... I don't even know what he'd do. Just promise me you won't tell him, or show him."

"I promise, Natasha." Steve said, tiredly. All he wanted to do was to go upstairs and make sure Bucky was fully okay, and then go to sleep. That's all he wanted to do. Tomorrow was their last day, and then they were leaving, back to Brooklyn.

 

"How you doin'?" Steve whispered, stroking Bucky's hair. Bucky hummed and opened his eyes slowly, a smile spreading on his lips.

"Good." He whispered back, holding Steve's hand as he climbed into the bed next to him.

"You okay?"

"I'm good." Steve smiled, and Bucky's smile widened, his eyes starting to close with the heaviness of being tired.

Steve stroked Bucky's hair for a while longer, and drew patterns with his index finger on the bare skin of Bucky's torso.

It was these actions that pulled Bucky into a deep sleep, but Steve was up for practically the rest of the night, thinking.

Thinking. His brain never seemed to shut up. Always whirring, clicking, loading, waiting for each thought to pop up and fill his head.

He'd always heard of the people that could meditate, and clear their minds so that it just seemed like a blindingly-white blank screen in their heads, peace from the screaming or the whispering or the murmuring or just plain talking voices.

And he'd tried but it never seemed to work for him. Maybe he was doing it wrong, maybe he was thinking about it way too much.

But his brain wouldn't shut up. It wouldn't stop thinking, the only peace he'd get would be his sleep and even then he would be attacked with dreams. Not as bad as Bucky's dreams, though.

Bucky's dreams looked scary. He'd never tell Steve what they were about, but Steve could guess after what Bucky had told him about his dad.

They'd never been as violent as they were tonight, comparing them to the other ones he'd experienced Bucky having. But considering Natasha knew exactly how to bring him out of them, Steve could tell he'd had them before.

And that broke his heart.

Turns out, though, that sometimes, overthinking tires you out, and puts you to sleep very quickly.

 

Steve woke the next morning to Bucky's face, staring down at him with eyebrows that were drawn together in confusion.

And Bucky was sweeping his fingertips across the bruise that bordered Steve's hairline. His floppy hair had failed him in the night and fallen back so that the bruise was visible.

"Where'd ya get this, Stevie?" Bucky asked quietly, not entirely sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"Well, good morning to you too." Steve teased, trying to ease the mood.

Bucky only gave him a gentle scolding look.

"Seriously, where'd ya get it?"

"I.. Walked into a door." Steve was immediately angry at himself, at how stupid it sounded.

"I..." Bucky started, but his blue eyes lost a shade of brightness and screamed defeat. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're near the end now, guys. I miss it already, I really do. Gosh.


	11. Chandelier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Keep my glass full until morning light,  
> 'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight,  
> Help me I'm holding on for dear life,  
> Won't look down,  
> Won't open my eyes,  
> Keep my glass full until morning light,  
> 'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight, on for tonight'

"Anyone seen Bucky?" Steve asked the group, as he trudged down the stairs slowly.

"He went out, bout half an hour ago." Bruce said, and Steve nodded slowly.

"Did he say where he was going?"

"No, just kinda said 'I'm going out for a while' and left."

They'd been packing their bags, and there had been a silence between Bucky and Steve.

It wasn't awkward, but it wasn't comfortable either, and it was clear that they were both thinking about what had happened the night prior.

But when they were finished, Steve had felt tired, saying he hadn't got enough sleep and that he was going to take a nap for a few hours.

Bucky had nodded and kissed his forehead twice, once on the space in between his eyebrows and once on the bruise, before leaving the room, not saying a word the whole time.

And now he was out somewhere, not answering his phone, and he hadn't given anyone any indication of where he was headed.

What a smart thing to do.

 

Steve stayed up until Bucky came back. It was half 1 when he stumbled in, reeking of alcohol and sadness. Steve could always pair an emotion with the type of drunk someone is.

He knows all about drunks. And he's seen this type of drunk lots of times over the years. Something on the mind, maybe guilt or pressure, definitely linked to sadness, so something strong to numb the pain. Maybe whiskey, brandy, or vodka. For Bucky's age, vodka was the more likely of the three.

He watched Bucky silently, the brunet fumbling with the keys to the door, trying to lock it shut again, muttering slurred curse words. He hadn't noticed Steve's presence.

Steve was used to that too. Going quietly unnoticed, usually wherever he goes. He's 95 pounds of nothing particularly interesting, and of course, not that many people want to interact with someone they might step on.

He doesn't judge people who damage their livers in exchange for a bit of piece and quiet from their feelings. He could never judge anyone for anything that wasn't always their fault.

But if he did judge, he'd have all the rights to do so in the world, having to put up with an alcoholic as a mother for the most parts of his life.

Yet again, were it so that he was the type to look down upon others, he wouldn't be getting up to help Bucky through his drunken stupor.

"Stevie!" Bucky said in surprise. "I didn't see you there." He smiled lop-sidedly, as Steve made his way around the island in the kitchen to Bucky.

"Where have you been, Bucky?" Steve scolded, putting Bucky's arm around his shoulder. He would have to be his scaffold for the time being.

"I was out drinkin'!" Steve put his hand over Bucky's mouth.

"Shh! You'll wake everyone up, ya putz. Come on, we gotta get you to bed."

"Stevie," Bucky's voice sounded childlike, innocent. He stumbled up the stairs, clinging onto Steve's skinny frame for support. "I didn't mean to hurt ya. M'sorry. You know I love you."

Steve sighed and shook his head. Bucky would be apologising for weeks now. He wasn't even angry, he knew full well the swing wasn't intentional.

"I know you do Buck. I love you too. But we gotta getcha to sleep now, cause you'll have an awful hangover in the mornin', and you won't be able to drive us back. Kay?"

"M'kay." Bucky flopped down onto the bed, fully dressed, shoes on and everything. Steve rolled his eyes and went back to the kitchen to fill a pint glass with water.

Bucky was on his back now, and Steve sighed in relief at not having to haul him over. "Drink this, Buck. It'll rehydrate you, and you won't have a hangover in the morning."

Bucky liked the sound of that, and so he gulped down half of the glass. Steve rubbed his forehead in thought and looked at Bucky's form below him, passed out and smelling of alcohol. He could only hope that Bucky would be okay to drive them home the next day.

 

"We gotta come back soon." Clint said, looking round at the house. It looked less lived in now, everything was more neat and no ones belongings were strewn around the place.

"Just hit me up when we wanna take another break, guys." Tony said, dragging his case down the stairs. "I think I've made more memories here with you guys than I have in my entire time on this earth."

Sam laughed and nodded. "You know when I found out we were gonna be staying with three other people I was a little skeptical. But all of y'all, I think you're all my favourite people."

"It was actually kind of relaxing." Bruce added. "I expected you guys to be a little too reckless but I think we all needed this break."

"I couldn't agree more." Tony said. "We definitely need to do this again. I might just get a little sad if we don't."

"You guys, it's a house. _Why_ are we being so sentimental about a house?" Natasha asked, and Tony glared at her.

"Because it's a super awesome cool house Natasha, that's _why_." Natasha rolled her eyes exaggeratively at Tony, making Steve laugh.

But their little holiday was over, and now, it was time to go back to Brooklyn.

Sam, Steve and Natasha all piled into Bucky's car, and they rolled past the beach, taking one last look at the pale sand. They were going to miss it, because it truly did hold so many memories for each of them.

They'd all become so much closer on this break, with a new bond forming between each of them.

Even Natasha gave Clint a kiss on the cheek as she parted ways with him.

Sam was dropped off first. Everyone said 'see ya on Monday!' And watched as he entered his house, closing the door behind him.

Then they dropped Natasha off, and Bucky hugged her while Steve waved at her as she carried her bags into her house.

And then finally, Bucky pulled up outside of Steve's house. Steve looked over at Bucky and smiled, earning a small tug of the lips from Bucky.

His eyes were a little distant and he had been quiet all day. Steve wasn't sure what was wrong but he knew Bucky hated it when people tried to pry into his feelings, and so he kept his mouth sealed from asking what was up.

Instead he gave Bucky a kiss on the lips. "I love you, Buck."

"I love you too, Steve." Bucky whispered in reply. Steve smiled and pressed the button that opened the trunk, stepping out of the car.

He grabbed the keys to his house from his pocket, and held them to the keyhole in the door.

"Goodbye, Steve." Bucky called, his voice wavering as he stared at Steve from the window of his car.

Steve pushed his key into the door and turned his body to look at Bucky, a smile on his face. But he soon dropped it.

"Why are you crying, Buck?" He called back, dropping his bag to the ground. He turned around, and watched as Bucky slowly started the engine. "...Bucky?"

He found the movement in his legs and descended the small steps, quickening his pace as he walked towards Bucky's car.

The window was rolled up now, and so Steve knocked on the glass, trying to catch Bucky's attention. But the knocks became more frantic, turning into open-handed banging as Steve pleaded with Bucky, begged him to answer him. And the bangs got harder and louder until Bucky was sure Steve's skinny hands would be broken. And he didn't want that.

"I'm so sorry, Stevie." Bucky whispered to himself, hot tears running down his face. He pushed the accelerator to move the car forward and drove away, trying not to look back at Steve in the rearview mirror. "I'm so, so sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was literally sobbing writing this you guys I'm so sorry


	12. Salvation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never meant to fall for you, but I,  
> Was buried underneath,  
> And all that I could see was white,  
> My salvation,  
> My my,  
> My salvation  
> My, my.

Why?

Why had he done this?

Steve was devoid of all emotion now. He just sat on his bed, in a daze, every emotion flushed from his body in the wave after wave of tears.

The orange street lights now gave his room a weird colour, and his eyes felt a little dodgy from letting the colour sink into them. He'd forgotten to close the blinds, the darkness of night had seemed to creep up so very quickly.

He'd had an asthma attack earlier, triggered by his excessive sobbing, and he'd honestly considered, for about 0.2 seconds, just letting it take over his body.

But he realised how cowardly and overreactive it was, and instead picked up his pump and used it.

His eyes were heavy, from tiredness and tears, but when he closed his eyes, all he could see was Bucky's face, crying in his car as he drove away. Steve decided he wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon.

When he looked at the clock on his wall, and saw it read 2:27 am, he was sure that, with how quickly time was passing, it wouldn't be a difficult task to stay awake.

It was like he would blink, and then it was 3:48 am. And then he'd blink again and it was 5 am. He felt like he was asleep, but he knew he wasn't. He didn't like it, not one bit.

But what could he do? He was Steve Rogers, renowned for his ability to let things slip through his fingers like they were grains of sand. Known for letting things just happen, too quiet to speak up about them.

Apart from that one time where he'd shut up some goon in his history class, mouthing off about soldiers during a video about American involvement in the Second World War. He'd got a beating after school for that one.

Or the time when he'd managed to help a dame get away from her maniac boyfriend one night. That one had earned him a shiner or two.

So maybe Steve Rogers wasn't a coward. He sure as hell stood up for people, and for things he knew were right.

And what he and Bucky had, that was right as rain. It felt - _feels_ \- right. Sure, they were fucked up as people, but so's the next person. Nobody's perfect, _nothing_ is perfect. Perfect shouldn't be a word, because it doesn't exist. The only thing about perfect that exists is the word because _nothing_ and _nobody_ is perfect.

"Gotta stand up for what's right..." Steve's voice, quiet and raspy in the dead of night, put his thoughts into a simple sentence. He did have to stand up for what was right, because if he didn't, then no one would.

 

"Let me in, Bucky." Steve pounded on Bucky's front door.

"No, Steve. Go home." Bucky's muffled voice came from the other side, much closer than Steve expected it to be.

"Not until you give me an explanation. I'm not moving."

Bucky cried silently, shaking his head. He had slid down the door, and coiled into himself, hugging his knees.

Silly, stubborn, perfect Steve. If ever there was a perfect person, their name would be Steve Rogers, and he would deserve everything that was good in the world. And he would never have to see the bad things in the world, or even have an idea of what they were.

Bucky would be one of the bad things, and Steve's life would be carefree and he wouldn't be full of sadness and he wouldn't be banging at Bucky's door.

But in this version of the story, Bucky had found a way of getting to Steve, and in doing so, had ruined his life. The bad things weren't supposed to get to Steve Rogers, but they had in this story.

"Bucky." Steve called again, plucking Bucky from his thoughts. "Please, let me see you. Please tell me why you're doing this." His voice was desperate and it made Bucky want to jump up, open the door and pull Steve into a hug.

But he couldn't because everything would revert right back to square one. Steve deserved some kind of explanation, though. That, at least.

"I'm gonna hurt you too much, Stevie." Bucky finally called back, cursing his wobbly voice. "Mentally, and physically. I already have, and I couldn't live with myself if I carried on. I couldn't live with myself if you hated me." He was full on sobbing now.

Steve closed his eyes, palm pressed against the door. He hated every word that was coming out of Bucky's mouth, hated the way he sounded.

He wanted to burst through and hold him, tell him every word he was saying were lies and that he could never hate him, even if he tried with every bit of strength he had.

"Open the door, Buck." Steve said, quietly. "Let's talk about this."

"NO!" Bucky shouted, and Steve squeezed his eyes shut. "I DON'T WANT YOU HATING ME MORE THAN YOU DO NOW!"

"I could _never_ hate you! No matter how much I, or you, or anyone else tried to make me!"

"Well you should hate me." Bucky's disembodied voice sounded defeated. But Steve wasn't giving up. Bucky would have to physically pick him up and carry him home.

He wouldn't put it past Bucky to do that, though, so he kept that to himself.

"Just let me in, Buck. Please. It's kinda cold out here." Low blow. Very low. But it was last resorts, now.

There was shuffling, and a pause, before Bucky spoke again. "You're really not gonna leave, are you?" His voice was monotonous.

"You know that more than anyone."

There was another pause, and then a click, and the door was unlocked.

Steve sighed in relief, and his hand lingered on the door handle for a second, before he pushed it open. Bucky was stood at the other end of the hallway, opposite the front door. Steve took this as a 'stay away from me' gesture and kept his distance, but Bucky's shaking form made it hard.

He looked like he'd gotten as much sleep as Steve had, and like he'd cried as much.

"Bucky," Steve breathed, "You're only hurting me now." Bucky's eyes were distant, he looked disconnected but Steve knew he was listening. "Don't you care about what I have to say? About what I think, what I want? Do I mean _nothing_ to you?"

Bucky's eyes flashed with discontent and they flicked to Steve. He frowned.

"You're my _everything_ , Stevie." He said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Steve let out a strangled, exasperated cry. "Then why are you doing this? Why won't you let me help you, Bucky?"

"Everything I touch falls apart, Steve. And l'll be _damned_ if I'm gonna let you fall apart because of me." Bucky spoke through gritted teeth.

"You really think you're gonna break me, Bucky Barnes? You think _you're_ gonna break me? I don't know if you've realised exactly what I live with, but if anything has broken or will break me, it's that. If anything, you've been my escape. My hope, dreams, everything. My salvation.

"And I'll be damned if I'm gonna be lettin' you slip away from me because you're havin' a few doubts about whether you're gonna hurt me or not." Steve had crept closer, and now he stood so close to Bucky he could feel the warmth radiating from his skin.

Bucky let out a frustrated cry, and broke down. Tears fell from his eyes and he dropped to his knees, hugging Steve's waist. "I will never deserve you," he sobbed into Steve's skin, over and over again. Steve stroked his hair, shushing him, trying to calm him, but to no avail.

He slid down to mirror Bucky's position and threw his arms around his neck, holding him so tightly. He wasn't letting him go this time.

They'd managed to manoeuvre themselves so they were sitting against the wall, Bucky tucked up nicely under Steve's arms. Their tears were still drying, but they'd stopped coming.

"I'm so sorry, Stevie."

"Don't ever do that to me again. Promise you will never do this to me ever again." Steve whispered, sniffling, and Bucky nodded, pressing himself harder against Steve.

"I promise. I'm sorry."

"Good. Stop apologising."

"Sorry." Steve laughed and jabbed Bucky in the ribs.

"Where do we go from here?" Bucky whispered, and Steve sighed, long, but softly.

"I don't know. But as long as we're together, I don't care. As cheesy as that sounds... I just never wanna lose you Buck."

"You'll tell me when you're unhappy with me, won't you?"

Steve laughed, and held Bucky tighter. "It'll be a long time, waiting for those words. Might wanna get used to the idea of not being able to get out of my grip."

"When am I ever out of your grip?" Bucky teased, gesturing to their current position. Steve laughed again.

"I love you, you jerk."

"I love you back, punk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally reached the end. 
> 
> Probably rather terribly, actually, but I'm a sucker for a happy ending. 
> 
> Maybe this one was a little broken but, nobody's perfect. Nothing's perfect.
> 
> I think I'm going to miss writing this. I already do, as it happens, I feel like crying.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's read it, and a special thank you to everyone who commented and made me feel all warm and happy inside uwu
> 
> Come and talk to me! I have a fan account on Instagram; sebastianstantho and my tumblr is now sebstan-tho :) 
> 
> And who knows, I may be back with the same au and a different storyline. If enough of you want that. 
> 
> goodbye xo

**Author's Note:**

> Leave comments and kudos if you like it, it honestly does boost my self esteem and persuade me to carry on.


End file.
